Chapter 17
NATE STAYED WITH JESS for the afternoon—she introduced him to a classic kiwi film: The Frighteners, and he’d introduced her to Psycho, keeping her supplied with a steady stream of buttered toast and instant soup—and then returned to his new accommodation for a decent night’s sleep.
The next morning, he arrived on set to find a skeleton crew. Two camera operators, looking pale, moved slowly among the equipment in the main room. He couldn’t see a single actor or their director Laney.
“Where is everyone?”
“Norovirus mate,” mumbled Jeff, a usually extroverted camera guy from Australia who Nate had shared a couple of beers with when he’d arrived. “Just sorting this out, then I’m heading back to bed. My guts are still crook as.”
Nate remembered Norovirus going through the staff, and some of the patients, at his hospital last year. It was highly contagious. Jess hadn’t had food poisoning or a hangover then.
“That’s no good. Rest up. Who else is sick?”
“More like who isn’t sick, mate. The whole box and dice.”
“Right.” A full outbreak then. That would slow filming down.
Nate knew some of the crew were at a budget hotel nearby, but had no idea where the rest were staying.
Perhaps he should get a list and check in on them?
His doctoring instincts were hard to shake.
People could get dehydrated quickly with gastrointestinal disease, sometimes dangerously so.
Jess had been incredibly unwell. What about the crew who were alone?
In the hallway, he found Tom, the finance and accommodation guy, sitting in his usual spot.
“You all good, Tom?” he asked.
“Fine. Don’t know what everyone’s complaining about. Time is money and stomach bug or not, we should be filming today.”
Tough as nails, these old guys. He’d met more than a few of them in his job back home. “Do you have the accommodation list? I’d like to check on the crew. Make sure they’re all okay.”
Tom grumbled again about weak stomachs and fished out the list from a folder.
“Tell them to stop being so soft and get back to work,” Tom said, handing the list over.
“Will do,” Nate said with a smile, knowing he’d be doing no such thing.
He scanned the list. Could he get to them all in a day? It would go faster with two. He pulled his phone from his back pocket and messaged Jess.
By the time he’d left her last night, after their classic horror movie marathon and a light meal, she’d perked up. She might be okay to come help. They were a pretty good team.
She replied quickly with “yes” in all caps and, because her car was still in town from her night out, he drove back to the cottage to pick her up.
They decided to visit the holiday park first, where several of the cast were staying in cute A-framed rainbow coloured cabins, presumably shaped to look like tents. Nate and Jess moved between them, updating each other as they crossed paths.
“I’ve checked on Michael. He’s managed to eat something and keep it down,” Nate said as they met up near the end of the line of huts. “How’s Frankie?”
A curious labrador puppy approached them, sniffing at their shoes. Nate reached down to pat its head and it stood soaking in the attention for a moment. Then, deciding they had nothing edible or interesting, moved on to explore the rest of the park.
“Cute. Sorry, how was Frankie?”
“A bit quiet, considering what he’s normally like,” Jess replied, watching the dog wander between the trees.
“But his temperature was normal. We should check on him again later, though.” She scribbled a star next to Frankie’s name on the list, using the code they’d devised.
Ticks for the crew who were recovering well.
A star for those who’d need a repeat check up.
“Should we check the crew at the hotel next?”
“Sure.” She swung her medical bag over her shoulder and joined him, heading for the car.
Nate liked her like this: purposeful, confident. Like she loved it. It was nice to see someone doing the thing they were passionate about. He knew checking on stomach bugs wasn’t part of midwifery, but when she was caring for people in real life, she had a spark.
They arrived at the hotel and again split the rooms between them. Every room was occupied by a crew member as, being a budget hotel, Tom had booked the entire place.
Nate checked on three crew and then knocked on the glass sliding door to Monica’s room.
A tiny older woman who managed the food, Monica oversaw every meal on set and had been adopted by most of the crew as a grandmotherly figure.
Nate waited at the door, listening for a response.
The room was dark, curtains drawn, and he couldn’t hear any noise from inside.
After a third knock was ignored, he began to worry.
“Monica? Can you hear me?” he called.
Jess joined him, a concerned look on her face. “Not answering?”
He shook his head. “I’ll get the key from the manager.”
Jess waited by Monica’s door as Nate went for the key. When he returned, they exchanged worried glances and entered the room.
“Monica? It’s Nate and Jess,” he said, not wanting to startle the older woman. In the dim light, he could make out a shape on the floor next to the bed. “Jess, over here.” His voice rose in urgency. Kneeling next to Monica, he placed two fingers lightly on her neck. Fast pulse. Burning skin.
“She must have fainted,” Jess said, taking the older woman’s hand and patting it. “Monica, can you hear us?”
Monica stirred and opened her sunken eyes, clearly dehydrated and febrile. How long had she been unwell for? Norovirus could last for one to three days, but older people were especially vulnerable to complications.
“Who are you?” Monica slurred, her voice raspy, as if she hadn’t had anything to drink in days. “Tell Lance it’s time to get ready for church.”
Nate exchanged another look with Jess, knowing she understood the situation. The disorientation was another clear sign of how seriously dehydrated Monica was. She’d need IV fluids fast.
The older woman tried to stand, and Jess and Nate rushed to grab her arms. Monica resisted, pushing them both away weakly. “I can do it. Where’s Lance?”
“Careful, Monica,” Jess soothed her, taking her arm again. “You’ve probably got low blood pressure. Don’t want you fainting again.”
“I didn’t faint. I was…” Monica stopped, looking at Nate and Jess with confusion in her eyes. “I think I’ll sit for a bit.”
“Good idea, Monica,” Nate agreed. They helped her sit back on the bed, propping pillows up behind her back and covering her legs with a light blanket.
“Time to call the ambulance,” Jess whispered in Nate’s ear, echoing his thoughts.
He nodded and stepped outside to call, leaving Jess to keep an eye on Monica.
JESS SAT NEXT TO MONICA on the bed and watched as Nate left the room. She’d found herself watching Nate more often than she’d like to admit. When they caught each other’s eyes and communicated without talking, a little thrill shot up her spine. He seemed to just get her.
“Lance is a handsome one,” Monica said, her eyes also following Nate to the door. “Where’s he going now?”
Realising she was talking about Nate, Jess smiled reassuringly at Monica and held her hand. “He’s just making a phone call. You’ve been very sick and we need to get you to the hospital to get some fluids, okay?”
“No, no. I’m fine.” Monica tipped her head and examined Jess like she would a small child with ice cream all over their face. She half expected to get wiped down with spit and a handkerchief.
“You always did worry too much,” Monica said, patting her hand. “I need to start getting ready for church soon. But I’ll sit with you for a little while, if you like.”
“Thank you, Monica. I’d like that.” Jess hoped the older woman wouldn’t try to get up and move around again before Nate got back. She wasn’t sure she could support Monica’s weight on her own and she didn’t want her to have another fall.
Jess didn’t have long to worry. Nate popped his head back around the door and locked eyes with her, making her shoulders relax. There it was again. The new sense of calm that washed over her in Nate’s presence.
“They’re on their way,” he said, moving beside her and crouching down next to the bed to talk to Monica. “Can I take your temperature, Monica?” he asked, his voice full of warmth.
Jess loved the manner she’d seen him use when people were sick, so gentle and respectful. So different from his television character. She pictured him caring for her and blushed. Had he shown her more care, or just been doing his usual doctor thing? Part of her hoped it was the former.
Handing over an ear thermometer from her medical bag, Nate took Monica’s temperature.
With his attention elsewhere, she could take him in; allow her eyes to wander over his muscular forearms, which were now visible beneath his rolled up sleeves.
Arms that had held her close more than once.
The temptation to trace the veins up from his wrists to his elbows made her heart catch in her throat.
He tipped the thermometer screen towards her to show Monica’s temperature, snapping her out of her thoughts and sending heat to her cheeks for a second time.
She cleared her throat.
“Not good,” she said, trying to sound professional instead of like someone who’d just been ogling him.
Monica’s temperature wasn’t drastically high, but still raised.
Older people often showed other signs of serious illness, such as confusion, and Monica certainly hadn’t made a lot of sense since they’d been in her room.
It wasn’t a Sunday and, from the conversations she’d had with Monica on set, she was pretty sure her husband Lance had passed away several years ago.
When the ambulance arrived, Jess and Nate helped Monica onto the gurney, and Jess called the film set to see if Monica’s emergency contacts were listed.
By the time they’d finished their rounds, it was nearing dinner.